


Petit Étranger

by midnightsnapdragon



Series: Nostalgia [18]
Category: Lunar Chronicles - Marissa Meyer
Genre: AU where Lunars are irrelevant and don't cause any international crises, F/M, Kai is still an unsubtle dork with a crush, Time Travel, some things never change, the Linhs are also irrelevant because Cinder bought her independence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-07 08:35:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13430973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightsnapdragon/pseuds/midnightsnapdragon
Summary: In which a prince and a mechanic fall in love in quite the normal way - that is, until an interfering third party throws a wrench into their story.(Or, Cinder and Kai reunite with someone they haven't met yet.)





	1. Chapter 1

**i.**

Fate and timing have an awful sense of humour. It would have taken her ten minutes, tops, to detach her rusted, too-small foot and attach the replacement. No one would have ever known. She wasn't expecting any customers today – the upcoming festival has captured everyone's attention, and the market is crowded with sun lanterns and red paper dragons and the smell of Chang Sacha's sweet rolls. No one should pay her booth any attention on a day like this.

But somehow, the local prince chooses the very moment she becomes footless, and more cyborg than ever, to come to her booth.

It's _laughable._ She wobbles on one foot whilst examining the dead android he deposited on her table, struggles even harder to maintain nonchalance as she asks routine questions and goes through the routine checkup. In fact, she's so focused on feigning normality that she doesn't see the prince watching _her_ instead of what she's doing with his android.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cinder sees him lift from the table the eleven-year-old cyborg foot she detached from her leg not two minutes ago. She can't help but tense, terribly aware of the gaping lightweight that is her empty ankle socket. But Prince Kai sets it down with only a curious look, and asks if she can have Nainsi ready before the festival.

When he finally leaves, she heaves a sigh, half-hoping that he won't actually come by the market next week like he promised, and half-hoping that he will. It's not really the _prince_ bit that concerns her – it's the smile that can make her a stammering mess if she isn't careful.

Her relief is short-lived, as Iko wastes no time in informing her that she has a rather conspicuous grease splotch on her forehead.

**ii.**

"A faulty chip," she tries to tell him, but her voice is drowned out by a mighty cheer from the parade. Her market booth is on one of the busiest festival streets. Kai gets jostled by someone holding the tail end of a dragon that seems to float above everyone's heads.

"Sorry, what?" he yells over the din, cupping a hand around his ear.

It's such a normal gesture that she has to smile. Before she can think too much about it, she leans closer until her mouth is at the shell of his ear and says, "A faulty chip, incompatible with her programming. Removing it was all it took to wake her up. Maybe someone took your android for a different model and put it in by mistake."

Someone collides with Kai from behind and he staggers forward, his temple bumping against hers. When he pulls back, his cheeks are tinted pink, but that's probably just the summer heat. She hands him the ordinary gray chip she plucked from Nainsi's innards.

"Thank you," says Prince Kai with a sheepish smile. He wraps an arm around Nainsi and sets her down. "I'm sorry for bothering you with such a small problem."

"Not at all," Cinder assures him, and is relieved when they exchange goodbyes and he turns to disappear into the crowd. It's nice and all to meet royalty, but you know what else is nice? Not having to worry about etiquette, or the upcoming royal customer review, or all the dirt and grease on her clothes, not to mention –

"Say, Linh-mei," he says, turning back toward her, "would it be all right if I came to you again? I mean, if we had any more mechanical troubles?"

She blinks, thrown completely off guard. "Of course."

Kai smiles again, all carefree boyishness, and disappears with Nainsi into the market crowd. Cinder drops back into her chair, a little disoriented.

"Was that Prince Kai?" Iko squeaks behind her, peeking out from behind the back curtain. She rolls up to Cinder, tugging on her sleeve with her pincers. "Was he here for the android?"

"Yeah." Cinder exhales slowly, giving the little booth a once-over. Maybe it's the prince's lingering presence, but somehow the scattered tools and android parts seem messier than ever. This second home of hers probably resembles a hermit's cave to the heir of the Commonwealth.

Whatever. She's a mechanic. It's her job to get her hands dirty. It's _his_ job to be as cordial, charming, and tactful as he is, so at least she can count on him to not point out grease splotches or give her advice on running her own business like some of the other shopkeepers do.

Beside her, Iko gives a yearning sigh. "Sometimes I wonder if being handsome is in a prince's job description."

"Sometimes," says Cinder with a suspicious look at her friend, "I wonder if psychic abilities are part of your programming error."

Iko's indignant shriek is heard halfway across the market square, making passerby jump and clap their hands over their ears:

_"I do not have a programming error!"_

**iii.**

Cinder thought the prince's question had been hypothetical, _if we have any more mechanical troubles_ being almost as likely as _if Mars declares war._ They have technicians more skilled than she at the palace – why would he ever come back to her booth? Nainsi was an exception, a one-time thing. And yet, a week after the festival, Kai shows up again, this time with a med-droid in tow.

Cinder is unable to hide her surprise. "Did the royal mechanics have a hard time?" she asks as she tugs the android closer across the table.

When Kai doesn't immediately answer, she looks up at him, eyebrows raised. He's looking somewhere off to the side, his hands clasped behind his back. He looks almost … embarrassed.

"Your Highness?" she prompts.

Kai clears his throat. "I … didn't ask the royal mechanics."

Cinder can't help but stare at him, flabbergasted. _That makes no sense, why wouldn't he –_

He gestures awkwardly at the android. Redirecting her attention. "What do you suppose is wrong with it?"

It takes her a few days to bring the med-droid to rights again. Dead wiring between the optosensor and control panel doesn't take very long to fix, but she takes meticulous care with the diagnostics, just in case. She doesn't want to mess up after having such an easy time with Nainsi.

When he comes to pick up the android, he pauses to inquire about her family. Cinder tells him, a little stiffly, that she doesn't have any. There's Peony, her friend and sister, and Iko, her constant companion, and that's it. Buying her way out of Adri's guardianship was the best and easiest decision she's ever made.

And of course she must now ask after _his_ family, except there's that trivial detail of his family being the one that rules the Commonwealth. Cinder hesitates and says, haltingly, "How is your … household, Your Highness?"

Kai laughs. "Well enough, thank you for asking. It's a pity I don't need to tell you about my own family."

Cinder's lips twitch. "Why not?"

"Well, seeing as everyone already knows who I am, it would be a bit redundant, don't you think?" Seeing her eyebrows lift, he adds quickly, "Not bragging, just a fact."

"Maybe it's only right that you don't need to introduce yourself," says Cinder. "After all, you knew my name before we knew each other, didn't you? When you looked at my business profile." She winces. "Not that we _know_ each other."

"Don't we?" He sounds surprised. "We're not strangers anymore."

 _But not friends, either. Or even casual acquaintances._ "I suppose not."

"I mean," he continues, "you know plenty about me, and now I know a little about you, too."

Cinder quirks an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Well, now I know firsthand that you are, in fact, the best mechanic in New Beijing."

Her lips curl up against her will and she lowers her eyes, briefly. She's used to her customers' acclaim, but coming from _him_ … well.

"Thank you, Your Highness."

"You should really call me Kai," he says, and smiles – so sweetly, so sincerely, that her heart jolts. Before she can answer, he wraps one arm around the med-droid and steps back. "Until next time, Linh-mei."

Something unforgivably blushy crams itself into her throat. Kai vanishes into the crowd, leaving her to thunk her head on the worktable, several times, in an unsuccessful attempt to knock the clouds from her brain.

**iv.**

The prince seems to be having an awful lot of mechanical troubles.

Two more androids, a detached netscreen, three royal gadgets and a portscreen all find their way to her booth, courtesy of one Prince Kaito. He insists on paying her for them all, claiming that the royal mechanics are busy with inoperative elevators or some such. Not that Cinder has anything better to do – work has been slow lately, maybe because no sane person is willing to brave the August humidity of the market – but it all seems rather dubious. Surely he has better things to do than run errands like these?

If she didn't know better, she might think that all the "malfunctioning" tech-bits are really just excuses to come to the market or get out of the palace. After all, it must get a little overwhelming to be the crown prince of an empire as vast as the Eastern Commonwealth.

She suspects that someone deliberately unplugged the processor of the third android he brings to her table.

But that's only conjecture.

Still, Cinder isn't going to complain. Prince Kai's weekly – sometimes twice-weekly – visits have become a welcome diversion from the otherwise steady life of a city mechanic. Every time he comes by, he stays longer and longer at her booth, talking amiably and making the occasional joke, before departing once more for the palace … or wherever a prince goes in his free time.

The strange thing is that he puts her at ease. The more time she spends around him, the more she forgets to think of him as the heir to the crown and starts thinking of him just as a boy of her age who happens to have very big responsibilities.

She almost doesn't question it when one day, he comes to her booth empty-handed and joins her behind the table. It starts to rain almost as soon as he pulls up a chair, trapping them together, and Cinder's uncomfortably aware of the fact that there's no one else around. The atmosphere eases when he asks her to name all the tools in her booth and explain their uses. When she challenges him to put a wind-up toy back together and puts a screwdriver in his hands, he looks so completely lost that she can barely suppress a laugh.

Next market day, Kai shows up empty-handed again, and this time Cinder is positive it's not a mistake. An inkling of panic wells up in her. If he keeps coming around like this, as if he truly likes her company, friendship will be on the table – but she hasn't the least idea how to be friends with another person her age, much less a cute boy who's supposed to inherit the throne.

"Nothing for me to fix today?" she says casually as he rounds the table into the shade of the booth.

Kai holds her gaze and asks, utterly serious, "Am I obliged to bring a broken portscreen every time I want to come see you?"

 _You tell me,_ she wants to say, but something seems to have short-circuited in her brain; her sarcastic shield has deserted her. "No," she concedes instead, and starts twirling a wrench through her fingers so she doesn't have to meet his warmly laughing eyes.

**v.**

"A message for you, Linh-mei."

Cinder looks up from her worktable. Nainsi is on the other side, holding something out in her pincers. Behind her, the market is going about its business as usual; no one takes notice of one more white android in the crowd, and the hubbub is enough to drown out any single conversation.

She takes the proffered note. The feeling of paper against her skin is so foreign that for a moment all she does is rub it between her fingers, marvelling. Then she realises that she might smudge the ink and hurriedly smooths it out on her worktable.

"I am to escort you to the palace," Nainsi tells her in that inflectionless voice. "If you accept."

 _That_ gets Cinder's attention. _If you accept_ is not something you say when you have a portscreen you need fixed. _If you accept_ implies a choice or an invitation … or a gift. Maybe he wants to ask her a favour?

Or maybe, _maybe,_ this is a different kind of offer. One, she suspects, that's been coming for a while now.

With a glance down at the note, her suspicions are bolstered.

_Linh-mei,_

_As every one of our elevators, androids and netscreens are in full working order, I must do away with all pretense and ask you to meet me in the palace gardens for tea. You usually take a break around three o'clock, right? If a different time would work better, or if you don't care for tea, please don't hesitate to let me know._

_I look forward to seeing you again._

_Kai_

Wait a minute.

This almost sounds like –

"Is this a _date?"_ she blurts out.

Nainsi's sensor flashes blue. "His Highness did not tell me of his intentions."

Pressing her lips together, Cinder looks over the note again. Signed with his first name, plainly and informally, as if he considers them friends. But if that's so, why was he still calling her "Linh-mei" the last time he came to her booth?

Probably because he was raised in a royal household and is as courteous a young man as they come. But more likely, it suddenly occurs to her, because she hasn't told him to call her Cinder.

_As every one of our elevators, androids and netscreens are in full working order, I must do away with all pretense …_

She runs her eyes over the handwritten words over and over. His penmanship is immaculate, an elegant cursive that befits a prince of the Commonwealth. It doesn't escape her attention that he has tactfully left an opening for her to refuse. It's rather naïve of him. Who would dare to refuse a prince, especially on an excuse as flimsy as "tea isn't really my thing"?

Still, she appreciates the thought. Maybe he has yet to learn something about talking to people, just like her.

"He might have given me some time to clean up," she mutters, stuffing the note into her pocket. Grease stains, messy hair – what does it matter? This is the state she's always in when he visits. "I suppose we'd better get going if we want to get to the palace by three."

**vi.**

The hover deposits them outside the main palace gates. Nainsi takes her around to the garden entrance, but not before Cinder catches a glimpse of New Beijing from the cliff's edge. The city looks like a piece of ragged quartz, glinting white and blue in the afternoon light. For the first time she can remember, the clamor of two million people is gone, replaced with faint birdsong and a serene wind come to rustle through the grass.

Nainsi leaves her at the garden gate. Tentatively, Cinder walks inside, ducking under the hanging boughs of cherry blossoms. A burbling stream cuts through the neatly trimmed shrubbery. Her feet automatically find the path of flat stones, which leads her to the quiet little bench where Kai is seated, his back to her.

Her nerves are strung so high she has to clench her fists. A part of her mind that sounds an awful lot like Iko screeches _The prince!_ but another one, an affectionate voice, insists _Kai._ The boy who makes her laugh; the boy who comes to keep her company in the stuffy market booth; the boy who watched, completely enraptured, as she fixed a beaten portscreen, as if she were weaving a rainbow with her bare hands.

 _There is nothing to be afraid of,_ she tells herself, but even so she takes a few deep breaths before rounding the bench.

When Kai catches sight of her, he stands to greet her as respectfully as if she's a highborn lady or a queen. _Or an empress,_ a sly voice whispers in her head.

"Linh-mei!"

A small smile sneaks out. "Your Highness."

"I'm sorry I invited you at such short notice" – Kai grins, making no effort to conceal his delight – "but I wanted to speak to you as soon as possible. Would you like some tea?"

Right on cue, a shining white android rolls down the path, bearing a china tea set on a tray. The delicate cups barely jolt thanks to the smooth treads. "Oh. Yes, please," she says, and at his gesture sits beside him on the bench as the android pours tea with an extra set of pincers.

"So," he begins, with a too-casual small-talk tone, "the Commonwealth ball is in two weeks. Any plans?"

"Not really," Cinder replies, matching his nonchalance. She takes a cup of steaming tea on a saucer from the android. Careful not to scald her fingers through the thin china, she brings the cup to her lips and inhales deeply. Blackberry. How many months ago did he ask her about her favourite kind of tea? How long has he been paying attention? "The market closes at five, so I figure I'll be there until then. People tend to break things a lot more on holiday."

He waves the android away. "Portscreens and decorating droids?"

"Among other things," she allows. "What about you, then, Your Highness? What's on the itinerary of the prince?"

 _"Kai,"_ he reminds her, leaning closer to look her full in the eyes.

Cinder glances away.

"The usual, I guess," he sighs, settling back against the bench. "Receiving guests. Dancing with diplomats. Gazing at the food while some duke or duchess ropes me into small talk." He sighs again, forlornly, as if he has never been allowed to sample the delectable dishes at the ball.

"Aren't you allowed to eat?"

"Technically. But Torin says it's improper to eat _hors d'oeuvres_ in front of citizens. I'm not there to enjoy myself, as it's technically a public appearance. So I'm stuck with a grumbling stomach while the guests clear out the buffet."

She can't help a smile. "That must be pretty frustrating."

"After eighteen years, yes, I'm a little bitter." But he smiles, too, like it doesn't actually bother him all that much. He nudges her shoulder. "So you'll just have to give me a secondhand account. What's the food really like?"

Cinder nudges him back. "I'm sure the palace cooks would be more than willing to make you an entire platter of your own."

"But it's different when you're actually there, with the music and dancing and your best clothes."

"Well, I've never gone to the ball," she admits. "So I couldn't tell you."

Kai's surprise is almost comical, as if she said that she had never heard the lullaby about the twinkling star. "Really? Why not?"

She shrugs uncomfortably as a dozen reasons spring to mind. _I had nothing to wear. Adri wouldn't let me. I wouldn't fit in at a fancy ball, anyway._ But all she says is, "It's not really my scene."

"The Commonwealth ball is supposed to be everyone's scene," Kai insists, and Cinder almost rolls her eyes because this is exactly the sort of thing you'd expect from a prince. "That's kind of the point."

"I'm a mechanic!"

"Well, you should come this year."

"What for?"

His eyes are bright and earnest. "So you can dance!"

Cinder blows her bangs off her forehead, exasperated. "I don't know how to dance."

"I'll teach you."

"I –" She shakes her head, trying to dispel the thought of dancing. With him. Her hands on his shoulders, his hands on her waist, whirling in tandem across the pavilion. That's supposed to be Peony's dream, not hers. Such a situation can only lead to embarrassment. "I'll just end up standing on the side, anyway."

"No, you won't," Kai persists, shifting on the bench to face her completely, "because I'll ask you to dance, and I don't think you're the kind of person who would reject someone just to prove a point."

She gazes back at him, doubtful. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know you."

Her breath hitches.

"Linh-mei," he says quietly. There's uncertainty in his face but determination too. "Come to the ball with me."

Maybe Cinder is stupid for only now realizing that he truly likes her. Surely, it's impossible that he – who lives high on this cliff overlooking a sparkling New Beijing – would like her, one of two hundred thousand single girls from the dirt and dust of the city streets. Impossible, her mind whispers. _Impossible._

How does one even date a prince? Friendship is one thing, but if she accepts this offer, the fact of his titanic future will constantly hang over their heads, whispering _empress empress empress_ into her ear as they try to enjoy each other's company. What if they break up? What sort of agonizing awkwardness will arise from _that?_

On the other hand, what if they _don't_ split up? What if she, a simple mechanic, will be expected to learn to hold her own on the stage of international politics, all in order to stand at the prince's side?

Whatever this is, it can't happen. There are too many strings attached, too much that could go wrong.

She opens her mouth to say no. She sees him see her start to say no, the pre-emptive disappointment in his eyes.

Things might have gone smoothly from there, if it weren't for the blinding flash of light above them.

Cinder and Kai both look up, momentarily distracted; Cinder gets the fleeting impression of gazing into a very wide, very dark tunnel in the sky, like a tornado opening straight onto them. Then something tiny falls out of it, growing larger and larger by the second.

"What the …" Kai mutters.

The something, whatever it is, screams "AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" as it flails wildly through the air. Only when it blocks the sunlight on their faces does Cinder realise that it's directly overhead –

She leaps away, dragging a yelping Kai by the shirt, but not fast enough.

Something smacks her head, and pain explodes in her shoulders as she's knocked to the ground by the falling object. Her hand is wrenched away from Kai's shirt. The bench snaps and falls to pieces in a racket of splintering wood.

Silence encloses the garden as dust settles around them.

Cinder squeezes her eyes shut and focuses on drawing in one breath after the other. She can barely register what's happened; one moment she was on her feet, the next she's lying flat on her stomach with a dull ringing in her ears. Her lungs can't seem to find air, immobilized by shock and by the heavy thing pinning her to the ground.

It must be a malfunctioned drone – no, a paraglider –

Yet it, too, seems to be breathing. She can feel its warm breath on her shoulders.

Before she can think to say anything, let alone move, the weight rises off Cinder's back and they hear a loud, very much human exhalation of relief. A cheerful voice pipes up:

"Sorry about that! Didn't mean to land on you. I still haven't got the hang of the calibrations on this thing. Did I hurt anybody?"

 _"Hrrrrrmgh,"_ Kai groans.

Cinder braces herself on her forearms and struggles up. Her back protests where it was jabbed by somebody's elbow – there'll be bruises there soon – but she manages to get on her hands and knees. Her hands are dusted with dirt, grass and wooden splinters, and beneath them lie the remains of the carved bench they were sitting on only moments before. The china teacups have been completely pulverized.

She twists around weakly on the grass … and stares.

It is neither a drone nor a paraglider.

In the wreckage of the bench, amidst mounds of broken wood and shards of wrought iron, stands a child.

**vii.**

It's a skinny little boy, maybe nine or ten years old, with floppy black hair, angular eyes and an olive Commonwealth complexion. He's frowning and jabbing at a round black object in his hands, paying no attention whatsoever to the two people he just rammed into the ground. He appears to be perfectly unharmed, with not a speck of dust anywhere on him.

He also looks vaguely familiar. Like someone she should know but can't quite remember.

Cinder cranes her neck, her lips parted in disbelief, searching the sky for a spaceship or skydiving hover the boy might have jumped off, but there are none. No movement, no growling engines, no hang-glider or parachute in sight. He seems to have appeared quite literally out of _nowhere._

"Where did you _come_ from?" she croaks out.

The boy looks up at her question, surprised, then a little sheepish. "Oh. Um … it's kind of complicated."

Beside her, Kai props himself up on his elbows, his dumbfounded expression a mirror of Cinder's own. His mouth opens and closes as though everything that comes to mind is unsuitable for the current circumstances.

Finally he breaks the stupefied silence and says, with delicate calm, "You fell from the sky."

"Uh …" The boy focuses on his round black device again, twisting his lips to one side. "Maybe. Hold on a second."

Cinder and Kai exchange a dazed look.

The boy is mumbling to himself, eyes flickering across the device in his hands. "Right. Okay. Eighteen years … fourteen days … fifteen hours after midnight. That should put me right when I'm supposed to be. Space-time continuum, check, DNA tracking, check. But if it's an alternate universe … ugh …"

Not taking his eyes off the child, Kai leans sideways toward Cinder and mutters, _"When_ I'm supposed to be'?"

She just shakes her head. She has no more idea of what the little boy is on about than Kai does.

The boy snaps the device into a protective cover, making them both jump. "Okay! Thank you for your patience! Are you Prince Kaito and Linh –"

But when he finally looks at them properly, for the first time since he crashed down from the sky, his voice trails off. Astonishment flashes across his face, followed by awe, like the sight before him is something fantastically improbable instead of two teenagers lying in the rubble of a smashed garden bench.

"… Cinder," he finishes slowly, recognition dawning on his face.

_Recognition._

Neither Cinder nor Kai know what to say, so the three of them stare mutely at each other as birds twitter in the blossoming trees all around them.

The boy tilts his head, eyes narrowed in curiosity as he looks the two of them over. "Huh."

The proverbial desert tumbleweed meanders from stage left to stage right.

"You don't look all that different," the boy says finally, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

"We don't?" Cinder says faintly.

"Nah. Torin showed me a few pictures from the wedding. You're a little younger now, but you're definitely them." He grins, a spark of mischief in his dark Commonwealth eyes. "Do you, maybe, recognize me?"

Cinder and Kai both shake their heads. Words aren't quite forthcoming yet. Torin? The _wedding?_

"No?" he says, disappointed. "Well, that's okay. We'll just do this … uh … hypothetically." He tucks the round black object behind his back and squints up at the sky, as if gathering his thoughts. "So I'm here about … um … a little boy you're going to name. Sometime in the near future. And, uh …" It's clear that whatever speech he was planning to give, he hasn't rehearsed it at all. "You might feel the urge to name him something weird or unusual, like, say, something beginning with a Q … because of mythological significance or whatever." He screws up his face in disgust at all weird, unusual, mythological things. "But I'm here to warn you that he would rather be named something easy and cool. You with me so far?"

"No," says Kai in a strangled voice.

"Um, okay." The boy falters. "What part didn't you understand?"

Jaw set, Kai gets to his feet and offers Cinder a hand up. She lets him pull her upright, releasing his hand as soon as possible to brush down her cargo pants. The familiar grounds her a little, offers some sense of normality in a situation that has escalated from improbable to absurd in the span of two minutes.

"Look," Kai starts, turning to the boy, "who are you?"

"That," the boy replies, looking very pleased with himself, "is classified information."

Kai gives a sharp, half-hysterical laugh. "You can't just appear out of nowhere and start making demands. If you want something from us, some context would really help because I have no idea who you are or where you came from or what the galactic gumballs you're talking about!"

Cinder glances at him, bemused in spite of herself. _Galactic gumballs?_

"I know you're confused," the young boy says soothingly. "It's perfectly natural –"

"Don't tell me it's perfectly natural. You just dropped out of the sky!"

"Yeah, you keep saying that –"

A threatening note enters Kai's voice. "Where are your parents?"

Instead of being cowed, the boy bursts into peals of laughter.

Shaking his head, Kai tries a different tactic. "Do you have some sort of teleportation technology? Are you a spy?"

The smile drops from the boy's face. "No!"

"He's not a spy," Cinder says firmly, coming to stand beside Kai. He looks at her and exhales, hearing the unspoken message: _back off, stop being overbearing._

Because if she's sure of anything, it's that this little stranger is no more and no less than what he looks like: a young boy who doesn't necessarily know what he's doing.

She looks into his eyes and tries to compose herself. Her voice shakes only a little as she asks, "What's your name?"

He bites his lip to suppress a grin, as if at some joke only he is aware of. "Are you sure you want to know? You don't want to … find out for yourself in a few years or so?"

Cinder gives him a strange look. "No?"

"All right." The skinny boy takes a deep breath – and it rushes out again in a huff of laughter. He looks as though he's desperately trying to keep a straight face, and is failing miserably. "Oh, boy. This is awkward. How weird is it that I have to introduce myself? Am I, like, completing the cycle of causality here? Hahahhahaha." But at Cinder's warning look, he sobers. Opens his mouth –

And hesitates.

And hesitates some more.

She raises her eyebrows.

He looks down at the ground and mutters something inaudible.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that …?"

"Quintos," he says, too loudly. "My name's _Quintos."_ He grimaces, like it tastes sour on his tongue. "Please tell me you can sympathize with kids with terrible names."

Kai frowns. _"Quintos_ isn't terrible. Isn't that the name of the first-era war hero? I always liked that story."

"What's that?" says Cinder, pointing at the round black object concealed behind the boy's back.

Quintos' eyes widen and he takes a step back. "Nothing! It's just a toy!"

"What were you just doing with it?" she presses. "What _calibrations?"_

"Nothing," he repeats, his voice going high-pitched. "Look, I just want to ask you a favour and get out of your hair."

Kai scoffs. "You can't just drop out of the sky and ask –"

"Fine," Cinder interrupts, laying a hand on Kai's shoulder. Maybe, if they play along, things will start making sense. "What is it?"

 _"Thank_ you," says Quintos. "When you have a child, don't call him something lame, okay? Call him Mamoru."

"'Protector of the Earth'?" Kai translates aloud, raising an eyebrow.

Cinder shrugs. "I never planned on having children, anyway. So consider it done."

She thought it was an insignificant, almost irrelevant thing to say, but look on Quintos' face goes from nervousness to unmistakable dismay.

"B-but," he stammers, "you've _got_ to! I mean, for the good of the Commonwealth. How can you not have children?"

Cinder frowns. "What are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about?!" Quintos stares up at her with wide, pleading, fearful eyes, as though he's drowning and she's holding the life buoy over his head. "You're the empress! You have to!"

She gives an alarmed laugh and holds up her hands in the universal gesture for _time-out._ "Excuse me?"

"You've got it wrong, kid," Kai says slowly. "Cinder isn't the empress. My mother is, actually." He gives Quintos a pointed look, as if to say _so watch who you sass, kid._

"Well, yeah, not _yet,"_ Quintos amends, as if it's supposed to be obvious, "but when your parents retire and you become emperor, she'll become empress, right?" He stops, squinting at the sky like trying hard to recall a school lesson. "I think that's how it works. Or does the prince's wife stay a princess if she was born a civilian …?"

Not believing her ears, Cinder splutters, "I'm not any prince's wife!"

A blush creeps up Kai's throat.

Quintos blinks, confused. "But you're married, aren't you?" he demands, gesturing to the both of them. "Or you will be by next June …?"

Instead of the confirmation he was obviously expecting, he's met with twin expressions of mortification.

The boy swallows. "You … you're not even engaged yet?"

Resolutely not looking at each other, Cinder and Kai both shake their heads. Neither feel the desire to explain that the possibility of romance has only just been tentatively placed on the table. A date at the ball is one thing, but marriage is … quite another.

"Right," Quintos says hoarsely, his face going milky pale. "I think I might have made a teeny-tiny mistake. Sorry for the inconvenience."

He whips out the round black device and starts frantically punching buttons. A white spark illuminates the interior of the black ball and electricity blooms around the whole thing, crackling on the surface. Quintos cradles it with his bare hands, apparently unaffected, before the electricity surrounds _him,_ too – cocooning him from head to toe.

"Stop!" Kai shouts in sudden panic, reaching to pull him out of the lightning shroud.

 _You idiot!_ Cinder wants to scream. Instead, she lunges for Kai, her hand grasping the back of his shirt to pull him back just as his fingers brush the hard casing of the electric device, just as Quintos cries a horrified _No!_ and all three of them vanish from the palace gardens of New Beijing.

_~ to be continued ~_


	2. Chapter 2

**i.**

They pop back into existence almost immediately.

Cinder promptly topples over backward and barely feels it when her head _thunks_ against the ground. The world spins violently on its axis as she stares, sick to the stomach, at the sky above her – the clouds are wheeling _around_ and _around_ and _around_ and she has to shut her eyes because passing out feels like an imminent possibility.

Thick silence blankets the world except for a faint whine persisting in her ears and the echoing _haaaah, haaaah_ of her breathing. Distantly, she hears a young boy's panicked, high-pitched voice. The static whine recedes slowly until she's able to make out what he's saying.

"Moth- Cinder? Are you okay? Please tell me you're okay. Oh, stars, please please please be okay."

Her eyes squint open, and she's able to vaguely make out Quintos' frightened face above her, blocking the sun.

"Oh, thank the galaxy," he gasps. "You're alive!"

"What … happened?"

"I messed up," Quintos moans. "I messed up _bad."_ He disappears from view, presumably to check on Kai.

Slowly, carefully, Cinder sits up, pressing a hand to her temple. She can't feel Earth spinning on its axis anymore; that's got to be a good sign. Planting a hand on the grass for additional support, she dares to take a gander at her surroundings.

They're in the palace gardens, in precisely the same spot as before. The cherry blossom trees are withering a little but still lovely in their hues of pink and white. The quiet trees, the stone path, the roofs of New Beijing palace peeping over the treetops – exactly the same. Sunny and serene and identical to the scene they just left behind.

And then Cinder's eyes fall on the bench.

The upright, perfectly intact bench.

Somewhere to her right, Kai groans in pain and props himself up on one elbow. His eyes find hers, dark and frantic, and he whispers "What the hell _was_ that?"

Cinder tilts her head at the bench. "Look."

He does.

And something seems to click behind his eyes.

"… oh man, oh _man,"_ Quintos wails, fisting his hands in his floppy hair. "Why did I have to take the stupid thing? Why didn't I just _listen?"_

"Quintos," Cinder warns, her voice rough.

"I've ruined everything!" he laments. "Now you're never going to get married – I'm never even going to be born – the Commonwealth won't have an emperor, there'll be a civil war! And – and – stars, I am _so grounded!"_

If he doesn't start making sense, she might throttle him. "QUINTOS!"

The boy halts and stares at the two of them, lying on the ground angry and disoriented for the second time that afternoon. "You're not supposed to be here."

"I _live_ here," Kai says through gritted teeth.

"I have to take you back." Quintos picks up the black device from where it was lying on the grass and beckons for them to touch it. "Come on!"

But Kai pushes it away. "No way. I am not going through that again until you explain –"

 _"Do it!"_ Quintos shouts, so vehemently that both of them flinch. "I have to take you back _right now_ before –"

He breaks off abruptly and stares down the stone garden path that disappears into the trees.

"Back where?" Cinder prompts him.

He flaps a hand at her. "Shhh – I hear someone …"

All three of them fall as still as statues, straining to listen. A few twittering birds fill the silence, and in the background, the stream burbles quietly.

Then Cinder picks up on something else – murmuring voices, coming around on the garden path. She doesn't recognize them, but clearly Quintos does because when he hears it, too, all the blood drains from his face like an hourglass emptying of sand.

"Oh, _no,"_ he breathes.

And then he's yanking them both up by the sleeves, shirt-collars, anything he can grasp, and they've barely wobbled to their feet before he drags them into the shrubbery and shoves them into a thick bush. Cinder lands on her butt, her hair knotting in a hundred tiny twigs. Quintos crawls into the bush between them, cradling the round device under his arm.

"What are you –" Kai starts in a furious whisper, but the boy shushes him so hard that spittle flies from his mouth.

Not a heartbeat later, a couple of figures appear ten yards away, meandering down the garden path at a leisurely pace, and Cinder, Kai and Quintos simultaneously freeze. They know, somehow, without speaking, that to announce their presence would be a very bad thing.

The woman is thin and angular with thin brown hair tied up in a messy bun, the man beside her a graceful figure with the kind of posture you can only learn after decades of not leaning against the back of your chair. Both wear collared shirts and black slacks like they just got back from an important meeting. They're young, maybe in their middle thirties, and deep in the kind of relaxed conversation held between people who have known each other for a long time.

They could be anyone.

But as they approach, and their voices become distinguishable from the background noise of the garden, the hair slowly rises on the back of Cinder's neck.

The woman's voice doesn't so much ring a bell as reflect her entire life back at her. A hundred meaningless conversations, a thousand curses muttered under her breath. Countless tunes hummed to herself as she worked in her mechanic's booth.

It's incredibly unnerving to hear that voice issuing from someone else's mouth, because that voice is Cinder's own.

"… don't know for sure that he's lying," the woman muses out loud, kicking a stray leaf off the path. "Anyone could have planted that camera. It could be someone from the Commonwealth. It doesn't have to be a foreign spy."

Not daring to move, Cinder mouths the words to herself: _someone from the Commonwealth … a foreign spy …_

It's a little throatier, a little more forceful, but there can be no doubt.

"We can't rule it out, though, can we?" says the man. Beside Cinder, Kai shivers like he's been dealt an electric shock. "We're all spying on one another, it's just a question of how much we allow and how much we call out."

"I wish the festival was today," the woman sighs.

Her companion nudges her shoulder in a painfully familiar gesture. "Hey, I know. We all need a break."

Cinder's breathing comes fast and shallow. The man's voice is the same one that asked her to repair Nainsi, that complained aloud about princes not being allowed to eat _hors d'oeuvres_ in front of guests. _Linh-mei, come to the ball with me._ It belongs, without question, to the boy crouching beside her in the shrubbery, watching the scene unfold with his white-knuckled fists planted in the dirt.

And when the couple comes close enough for her to perceive their faces, the very earth seems to shift beneath her, because they are not strangers after all.

The man's mussed black hair, like he strings a hand through it in frustration on a regular basis – his copper-brown eyes, the line of his jaw – she recognizes it all. Her netlink takes over and starts measuring the lines of his face, but she doesn't need it to tell her who he is – it's so obvious, it's irrefutable, as right as the sky is blue –

_HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, EMPEROR KAI OF THE EASTERN COMMONWEALTH_  
_ID #0082719057_  
_FF 109,012 MEDIA HITS, REVERSE CHRON_  
_POSTED 29 JULY 146 T.E.: THE ANNUAL PEACE FESTIVAL IS TO BE HELD AS PLANNED ON THE 17TH OF AUGUST; EMPEROR KAI CAN BE QUOTED AS SAYING, "THE DEATH OF MY ADVISOR AND OLDEST FRIEND SHOULD NOT HAVE BEARING ON OUR MOST SIGNIFICANT CELEBRATION; WE HONOUR HIS MEMORY BY VOWING TO –"_

The woman's slight slouch, her wiry frame, the way she sweeps her foot along the ground to nudge a fallen cherry blossom into the grass – Cinder knows the drumbeat she walks to, can count the exact seconds between one step and the next – and her face, her _face,_ it's like looking into a warped mirror; the features are older, sharper, careworn, but it is unmistakably the face of Linh Cinder.

 _It's me,_ she thinks, stunned, watching the older woman through gaps in the twigs and leaves. That's **me.**

But logic writhes against what her eyes are telling her; it's impossible, it _cannot_ be Linh Cinder walking closer and closer to them alongside the man who might be Kai if he were twenty years older. It cannot be _her,_ talking about spies and emissaries and things no run-of-the-mill city mechanic would ever be concerned with.

The couple steps through a shaft of sunlight filtering in through the trees. Light glints off the woman's steel hand, removed from its pocket to shield her eyes, and the breath leaves Cinder's lungs as if she's been knocked unconscious all over again.

Her netlink, having measured the points of the woman's face, starts to feed her information she doesn't need:

_HER IMPERIAL MAJESTY LINH CINDER, EMPRESS OF THE EASTERN COMMONWEALTH_  
_ID #0097917305_  
_BORN 29 NOV 109 T.E._  
_FF 76,391 MEDIA HITS, REVERSE CHRON_  
_POSTED 2 AUGUST 146 T.E.: UPON HER RETURN FROM THE AFRICAN UNION, THE EMPRESS SIGNED A TREATY AGREEING TO SHARE DWINDLING URANIUM RESOURCES; AN EXTRACTION OPERATION IS TO BE SET UP NEAR ANCIENT MINING TOWN FARAFRAH –_

Her name. Her ID number. A date that tallies up nineteen years later than what it should be, what she knows it to be.

And the words _Empress of the Eastern Commonwealth._

It. Isn't. Possible.

"I was so tempted to just stand up and tell him off."

"You know what we should do next time some dignitary corners us in a meeting? We'll just make a run for it and go incognito at the market. Get some of those sweet rolls at Chang Sunto's bakery."

"At least we can count on him not to yell at the top of his lungs that he has royal customers."

"Or overturn the oven out of shock. Remember when we met and I nearly fell over trying to bow because I'd removed my foot?"

"That might have been the best day of my life," says Emperor Kai, with that unabashed, carefree grin.

The younger Kai claps a hand over his mouth to stifle his breathing as the couple meanders to a halt right in front of their hiding place. The empress wearing Cinder's face plants a kiss on her husband's lips, the plain gold ring on her steel hand twinkling as she brings it to his cheek in what is unmistakably a lover's caress. The emperor, Kai's aged double, leans into her touch.

Hiding in the shrubbery, Cinder and Kai are stone, the space between them uncomfortably hot.

Quintos' voice echoes back to her: _Torin showed me a few pictures from the wedding._ Then later, more frantically: _now you're never going to get married – I'm never even going to be born –_

Cinder's mouth goes dry. It all fits together.

The empress sighs, lets her hand fall from her husband's face. "I wish Torin were here. He'd know how to politely tell the minister to go jump in a lake."

"I miss him too," he says. He takes the woman's metal hand in both of his, and something in Cinder's chest constricts; when had she told him she was cyborg? "I wonder what he'd think of how we've handled things."

"Pretty well, I'd say."

Something changes in the empress's expression and she frowns, thinking, staring off into the rows of blossoming trees surrounding them.

"Cinder?" the emperor prompts. The younger Cinder starts, and Quintos clamps a hand on her arm in a silent, anxious message: _be still!_

The empress's eyes slide back to the emperor's. "Does this seem … familiar to you?"

"Familiar? How do you mean?"

"I don't know," she says, knitting her brow. "I just get the impression that we've said this all before." Her gaze shifts until she's staring directly into the bush where Cinder, Kai and Quintos crouch, concealed, hardly daring to breathe. "Like we've _seen_ this all before."

The empress's gaze locks on Cinder, and even though she cannot possibly see through the thick shrubbery, her eyes narrow. An icy chill passes through Cinder's body.

Emperor Kai follows the empress's gaze, and something seems to dawn on him. He laughs in understanding. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

She nods, mouth curving into a wondering smile. "Yeah. This is it, isn't it? This is when we met –" She breaks off, presses her lips together. "We ought to be careful."

"This is so weird. I can't remember saying any of this, but this must be what I said, right?"

"Must be," the elder Cinder says softly. Her smile becomes arch and she turns to her husband. "We should leave soon. But first –"

The younger Cinder goggles as her other self cradles the emperor's face and kisses him deeply. Beside her, Kai makes an involuntary choking sound. Quintos groans very quietly at the embarrassment of watching two grown-ups make out in the palace gardens.

When they break apart, both flushed and a little breathless, Cinder the elder turns around and stares at their bush – directly into her younger counterpart's eyes – and her mouth quirks in a knowing sort of way. "Just to clarify," she says loudly, as if to no one in particular, "the future isn't set in stone, but this one is worth it. Trust your heart."

And, smiling to herself like she has a secret, she takes the flustered-looking emperor by the hand and leads him away down the garden path.

Cinder and Kai, still hiding in the shrubbery, watch them leave, quite decidedly not looking at each other. Kai's ears are bright red, and Cinder kind of wishes that the ground would swallow her whole.

Quintos heaves a breath like he's been holding it for the past five minutes.

And, as if in response, the emperor pauses on the garden path and calls over his shoulder:

"Quintos, once you've corrected your mistake, come and see us in the solarium."

Only then do they disappear from sight, leaving the original trio alone in the palace gardens.

Kai and Cinder turn, slowly, to look at the boy hiding behind them with the round black device curled in his arms. He reluctantly raises his eyes to meet theirs. If he looked embarrassed and guilty before, now he just looks resigned.

"Surprise?" he manages weakly.

Cinder exchanges a glance with Kai.

"I think," she says to Quintos, "you have some explaining to do."

**ii.**

They stand in the middle of the garden path, Cinder with her arms crossed, Kai running a hand over and over his face, Quintos staring down in chagrin at the black ball in his hands.

"Technically, it's just a prototype," he mutters. "They locked it in a vault in one of the palace sublevels. There are five of those now, by the way," he adds with a glance at Kai, "and Sublevel Two was remodeled in 130 T.E. Underground flooding. Just a heads-up. Anyway, I wasn't even supposed to know about it. They caught me eavesdropping one night. Made me promise to never ever mess with it." He turned the black ball over in his hands. "It generates a sort of field – fourth dimension? Fifth? I can't remember, I wasn't paying attention when Torin told me about it."

"They talked about Torin like he was – gone," Kai says suddenly. He looks at the ball in Quintos' hands like it's a live grenade, then at the boy's face. "What's going to happen to him?"

"He died," Quintos says simply. "Or, I guess, he _will_ die, from your perspective. Mom and Dad just said it was old age." His eyes cloud over. "I miss him. He was grouchy, but a nice guy. We used to play hide-and-seek here, in the gardens."

"Oh," Kai says, subdued.

Cinder speaks haltingly, her eyes trained on the ground. "And if Kai and I are – if we're going to –" She swallows, unable to bring herself look at the boy by whose side she might one day govern the Commonwealth. "Then who are _you,_ Quintos? Why is it our job to name you?"

It must be asked, even though she knows the answer already. It's in his dark eyes, his sheepish smile, the face that echoes her own reflection.

Quintos' eyes flicker up to hers, and in them she sees common sense – the rules of time travel – battling with his desire to be recognized by the people he loves most in the world.

"Can't you tell?" he mumbles.

Cinder finally looks at Kai, and he at her.

It is undeniable.

"He has your nose," Kai says softly, something reassuring in the way he holds her gaze.

Her lips twitch into a smile. "He's going to be taller than you are, you know. Is that why you started working on your posture?"

Quintos watches them hopefully. "Does this mean you'll get married after all?"

She gives an exhale that sounds half like a laugh, half like a sigh.

Kai shrugs ruefully. _"Que sera, sera."_ Then, surprising everyone, he kneels in front of Quintos and grasps his wrists. "Hey, I think Quintos is a great name. You shouldn't be ashamed of it."

"I'm not," Quintos mutters. "I just think you could do better, that's all."

"Pshaw!" says Kai. "You shouldn't be so quick to throw away a name. Who knows? In a few years you might even become fond of it. How many other children get to be named after a first-era figure of legend?"

The boy nods reluctantly.

Cinder's breath hitches. "Am I – am I a good empress?"

Quintos nods again, a little shyly. "The people like you a lot. Torin said you had to learn stuff for years, though."

"I'll bet," she says softly, not knowing if she wants to laugh or shout at someone. _The future isn't set in stone_ – but all the same, she feels a little like she's been robbed of something. Will all the things in between now and then become meaningless, like filling in the blanks until she reaches a point where the future is uncertain again?

"Come on." Quintos extends the time travel device toward them. "I've got to take you home."

Without ceremony, Kai puts a hand on its curved surface, and Cinder carefully places her hand over his. They glance at each other as all three of them are engulfed in electricity and the whole universe vanishes for the briefest of heartbeats.

**iii.**

They reappear in front of the wrecked garden bench. Cinder recovers a little more quickly this time, taking in quick gulps of air as she climbs to her feet.

"I guess," Quintos says slowly, watching her pull Kai up, "I'll see you in twenty years or so."

"Yeah," says Kai, releasing Cinder's hand. "I guess so."

As if afraid that they'll never meet again, Quintos rushes forward and wraps his arms around them both, pulling the three of them together. Cinder automatically settles one hand on his back and one on Kai's.

"Please don't be mad at me," Quintos mumbles into the space between them.

"We're not," Kai assures him. "But I'm making a mental note to myself to ground you. You know, in twenty years. If I don't forget."

"I'll remind you," Cinder promises.

The boy makes an unintelligible grumbling noise.

They stand like that together for a minute, a couple of teenagers and their future progeny. Then Quintos steps backward and they break apart.

"Take care," Cinder says, smiling wanly. "Don't get into trouble."

Quintos nods and tells them, in a small voice, "Goodbye."

They watch him punch a few buttons, and within moments he is enveloped in crackling energy. He vanishes with a shudder in the air around him, as though he has been swallowed by an invisible black hole, and the two of them are left alone in the garden.

Cinder blows out a breath, ruffling the strands of hair that have escaped from her ponytail.

Kai looks similarly uncomfortable, but he manages a weak smile. "Cinder, I swear I didn't expect that when I asked you out here today."

She half-laughs, glancing up at him. "Yeah, I know. Me neither."

"Would you think that I'm taking advantage of the situation if I asked you about the ball again?"

This time her laugh is a real one, albeit a little feverish. "We just met our son from the future, and you're worried about our date?"

"You never know," he says solemnly. "We could have hallucinated the whole thing."

Cinder shakes her head, a wide, stupid smile growing on her face. It's too much to process. Later she might feel conflicted or resigned, but right now she's just … giddy.

It's the knowledge that a future with Kai, this boy whom she likes so much, is not so unfeasible after all, that makes her change her mind.

"I would say yes, if you asked me again."

Kai's grin could light up all of New Beijing.

"You'd have to get used to calling me Kai, first."

Her smile softens. "All right. Kai."

He holds out his hands to her.

Cinder hesitates. Sucks in a breath. And shucks off the heavy work gloves, one after the other, watching him for a reaction. But Kai's eyes never leave her face.

She closes the distance between them and folds her hands in his, metal meeting skin as simply as turning the page of a book.

**iv.**

Quintos approaches the solarium with dragging feet, the time travel device still hanging from one hand like an oversized magic 8-ball. Through the doorway he can see his parents chatting by one of the high latticed windows, still in the simple black-and-white outfits they wear to meetings.

"Ah, there you are!" says his mother, beckoning for him to come closer.

Quintos obliges warily. When he is close enough, she puts a hand on his shoulder, bends down to look him in the eye, and informs him, "You're grounded until you're twelve."

His head snaps up. "You _still remember?"_

"Quintos, we were there five minutes ago. You're grounded."

"But … that's _two years!"_

"Yes. And if you ever touch this thing again, we'll disinherit you," she says severely. "Kai, the device."

Quintos' father silently holds out a hand, and the boy hands over the time travel device with a mutinous expression.

"What were you _thinking,_ stealing something like this without even knowing what the consequences could be?" the empress goes on, once again straightening to her full height. "You might have destroyed the entire timeline, made it so you'd never been born! We explicitly told you not to go looking for it. You have no excuse!"

"But I _have_ been born! Isn't there some kind of paradox law that says the universe wouldn't have allowed me to do it if it would have changed something? See, everything's fine." Quintos crosses his arms defiantly, jutting out his chin. "And you might not even have gotten married if it weren't for me."

"We were doing just fine without your help," says Emperor Kai. 

"Yeah, right. You could barely even look at each other!"

"That's enough," the empress says sharply. "Go to your room. Now. We can talk more about this later. And I'll be adding one extra hour of mathematics to your daily lessons, so you don't forget your mistake."

"But _moooooooooom."_

"Now, Quintos."

He stomps away, fully intending to sulk in his room until he gets hungry.

Emperor Kai tosses the device in the air and catches it, but stops when the empress shoots him a pointed look. "Well," he says quickly, setting it down on the window-sill, "what do you think? Should we destroy it, now that we've completed our twenty-year time loop?"

"I don't know," the empress says thoughtfully. "Maybe. Just to be safe."

"Dr Erland would never forgive us."

"Dr Erland would have had a heart attack if his future son fell from the sky and squashed him flat. Besides, we can't control it properly if we've no idea what the repercussions might be."

Kai quirks an eyebrow. "So far, the only repercussions _I'm_ aware of is that I knew ahead of time that you would say yes when I asked you to marry me."

"I was fulfilling the cycle of causality!" Cinder protests, in a well-worn sort of way. "There was no point in refusing if I knew where it was going to end anyhow."

He sighs forlornly. "And here I thought you said yes because you loved me."

Cinder huffs, but doesn't need to say anything; they both know it's absolutely true. Instead, she offers him her elbow, and they walk out of the library with their arms looped together and the black ball in tow.

"Do you think we should invest in a physicist to give us time travel lessons?" she wonders idly as they make their way through the palace. "To avoid any more spoiler-y time loops?"

"I don't know," says Kai, with an impish twinkle in his eye. "Maybe. If we have enough –"

"Don't say it!"

"– room in our schedule."

_~ the end ~_

_Please review._


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